Holy Chong!

August 10, 2007

I was in my room, gathering up my towel and shampoo this evening for my shower and as I was turning to leave something on the wall next to my bed caught my eye. There, a foot above my bed was the biggest, hairiest spider I have ever seen in my life. In a flash, eyes bulging, heart pounding, I ran for my host sister. When she came, confused at first, she too gasped with surprise at its monstrosity. We both agreed it was “chong!” which in Kyrgyz means very large. From the hallway I watched her, rolled newspaper as a bludgeon, swat the thing from the wall onto my bed, where she then preceded to wack it some more, check to see if it was still alive, and scoop and squish it with the paper – leaving a brownish residue on my sheet.

While showering I was thinking about how everyone on average eats eight spiders in their lifetime, and I wondered, do PCVs eat double? I’m afraid to sleep now.

Another two volunteers went home this week, not on account of spiders. I think sometimes, people just realize that this isn’t what they were expecting, or they don’t think it’s the right fit for them. To leave for that reason, I believe, it’s better to figure it out earlier on. I believe I’m very fortunate that I feel this is where I’m supposed to be right now.

I spoke with the country director yesterday about human trafficking, which – like everywhere else in the world, is a problem here. She explained to me the anti-trafficking efforts in Kyrgyzstan, and assured me that I would most likely be able to work with an NGO or regional network on the issue – for my secondary project, if not my first. I’m also looking forward to meeting her daughter who is coming to visit. She works for a major international NGO to monitor and combat trafficking in persons.

August 12, 2007

This weekend I went to the mountains for the first time in Kyrgyzstan. Though I see them everyday – from my house, while walking, from the marshutka – I finally got a chance to actually be in the mountains. In less than an hour’s drive we were far into the foothills of the mountains to the south. The bumpy road ran alongside a rushing river that grew wider the farther up we got. As the river got wider the houses got more and more sparse. In between fits of plains, horses, sheep, cowboys and their dogs roamed. Wheat and corn grew in vast slope-side fields. Goats so high up cliff-side I could picture them tumbling off with one wrong step. Along the side of the road, old women in floral headscarves and young children in bare feet sold raspberries, milk, honey.

Our destination was a popular tourist spot: hot springs. We parked, then hiked up to a strangely crowded fenced-in area. After paying a small fee we were admitted. One large blue concrete empty pool, and one small pool packed with people – enjoying the hot natural mountain water.

A paved bench-lined walkway led to a park with fountains, a few animal sculptures, and a hospital. There were also apartments and a mosque, both of which seemed out-of-place. My host mother explained to me that people come to this spot when they are sick because the hot springs have healing powers. They come to drink it and bath in it at its source.

In the park a large crowd gathered around a baby’s circumcision celebration.

On our way home we picnicked by the water, cool, as daunting rain clouds held between peaks. We ate cake three times for Asela’s fifteenth birthday.

August 15, 2007

This morning we got to visit the orphanage in our village. I knew that there was one here, but I had no idea that it was so close or so big. Just a five minute walk from my house, the stately orphanage houses 170 children ages 6 – 17. The unique thing about this particular orphanage is that it is the only one in the country that takes in orphans with mental disabilities.

First we talked with the director for an hour. She said she has been working there since 1963! She never imagined she would stay so long, but the kids became like her children and she couldn’t imagine doing anything else. After, her assistant gave us a tour of the grounds and we got to meet some of the children. They were playing outside and as soon as they saw us they ran up to us to hold our hands and introduce themselves. One little boy had a small puppy in tote and he was so proud to show it off. The kids were so cute. A couple volunteers took out their cameras and the kids went crazy – they wanted to see the digital image after it had been snapped. For the rest of the tour they accompanied us, holding our hands, smiling, and chatting away. They didn’t want us to leave either, when it was time, and a followed us out to the gate to wave goodbye.

Hopefully, we’ll get a chance to plan an activity for the kids so we have an excuse to go back.

Also, today I had the privilege to attend the wedding of another volunteer’s sister. Their house (in my same village) was already bustling with activity when we arrived after language class, around lunchtime. Long tables with benches filled the courtyard and adjourning yards, hosting a feast for the eyes and the stomach. A large tent, constructed out of multi-colored and multi-patterned plastic sheets provided some shade for the grateful guests. By 2pm there must have been at least 150 guests eating and dancing to the live Turkish music.

It was interesting to observe the traditions that got acted out - precise and calculated. When the bride came out of the house, finally around 3pm she was completely covered and led by friends holding on to each of her arms. She was led to the middle of the open dance area, where the gifts from the groom’s family had been laid out on a plush rug. An older female relative lifted the cloak off the bride’s head so that everyone could see her beautiful white wedding gown. A long veil still covered her face, and her friends never left her side. While one woman opened and announced to the on looking crowds each gift, the bride bowed to show her thanks. This lasted a solid hour. The gifts were of the nature of perfume, rings, dresses, shoes, suits, and chocolate. After all of the gifts were announced, the bride receded back into the house.

At one point the M.C. announced each table of guests and invited them to dance for everyone. When he got to our table, unhesitatingly, he announced to all that we were visiting Americans and welcomed us warmly to dance. We obliged, making a spectacle of ourselves – trying to imitate the Turkish wedding dance we had been taught for the cultural event. Everyone stood up to get a better view; it was a long 5 minuets.

Around 5:30, with the celebration still going strong, we paid (literally – 50 Soms) and left – full bellied and exhausted. We were told that around 7pm the party would be moved to the groom’s parent’s house down the street where the party would continue until midnight. While there at the first house, we ate Russian salad (tomatoes, cucumbers, onions), flat bread, sheep meat, pastries, and cookies – all of which was merely the prelude to the main dinner. We drank peach soda, water with gas, root-beerish soda, and tried some red wine made in Kazakhstan. The wine had the consistency of syrup and resembled grape juice-gone-bad. Vodka bottles were placed on every table as well, but we all opted not to crack it open – being the responsible volunteers that we are.

Yesterday I had my permanent site placement interview with the SOCD (Sustainable Organizational and Community Development) Program Manager. She’s having trouble finding the perfect NGO for me to work with – that will fulfill my preferences, but she’s still working on some leads. She said most likely I will be in Bishkek, Jalalabad, or Osh, working with a women’s NGO. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

The reason I haven’t posted in a while is because there is a big summit conference in the capital with all the presidents from the surrounding countries, and therefore we are restricted to our villages for 2 weeks (for our safety).